


Marks of Shame

by babykid528



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [14]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues, Shame, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2783909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/babykid528
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a Mark of Shame.</p>
<p>
  <i>Chris remembers his grandmother saying that once.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>It was a long time ago, when he was very little, back when the constellation of lines and dots across his clavicle still looked like faint freckles. He still remembers the words now, though, as if she’s just said them.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marks of Shame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WintryMix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintryMix/gifts).



> I wrote this for Wintry on tumblr back in June when there was a trope meme going around and I apparently never cross-posted it here. 
> 
> She requested Pinto and the Soul Bond trope.

_It is a Mark of Shame_.

Chris remembers his grandmother saying that once.

It was a long time ago, when he was very little, back when the constellation of lines and dots across his clavicle still looked like faint freckles. He still remembers the words now, though, as if she’s just said them.

_It’s nothing_ , his mom had insisted in reply, brushing his tanned skin repeatedly with her fingers, like maybe, if she was lucky, the marks might wipe away. Like dirt. 

_If only_ , his grandma had replied, watching her futile motions with some emotion he couldn’t quite recognize.

Years later he would know that look was a mix of pity and disdain.

Even when the look and her tone were foreign to him, though, they still managed to instill in him a permanent sense of embarrassment and shame.

The Marks are not something discussed and they’re certainly not something advertised. Chris knows there are a number of people who have them, similar but vastly different from his, and they all are careful to hide them.

That’s what society dictates should be done when the Marks are found.

Ever since his grandmother noticed his, Chris had been covering it up with specially designed concealers his mom would slather on his chest. Now, years later and all grown up, he continues the routine himself. He brushes concealer on every dash and dot. Not an easy feat as the Mark has darkened, solidifying, with age.

The only time Chris ever really sees his Mark over the years is right after he showers. He catches a glimpse of it in the mirror, reflected backwards like a strange warning.To this day, it makes Chris’ face redden.

He can never look at it for long.

He barely allows his skin to dry before he begins caking the make-up on to hide it from view.

_It’s the decent thing to do,_  His mother’s voice says in his head.

Chris meets Zach a number of times before they begin working on Star Trek together. And every time they meet, it’s like something deep inside of Chris just feels off.

He can’t place his finger on it, but his very soul seems to be trying to tell him something, and he can’t for the life of him, figure out what. And it sucks, because he really likes Zach. He likes spending time with him. He spends time with him whenever he can, actually. But it’s not entirely comfortable and he just can’t place why.

It’s not until they return from a run together, one early morning after filming is complete, that things begin to make sense. In the aftermath of their exercise, they’re both slick with sweat. Chris, without thinking, strips off his shirt in the middle of his living room, and takes a swig of his bottle of water.

Zach grabs his arm before he can finish the bottle and he almost chokes on a mouthful of liquid.

"What the hell, man?" he manages to ask, once he swallows.

"What is that?" Zach asks.

Zach  _demands_ , actually.

Chris isn’t sure what he’s referring to for a moment, then he looks down at his chest, where Zach is staring at the design peaking out from beneath the smeared concealer. 

Chris can feel his face heat.  _How could he have possibly forgotten?_

"It’s nothing, man," he says, trying to twist away from Zach so he can hide his Shame from view.

"Like hell it’s nothing," Zach barks and he tightens his grip on Chris’ arm.

"Zach," Chris pleads, "Just forget it. Okay?"

Zach won’t let Chris out of his grip or his sight though. He reaches out with his free hand and roughly wipes away the rest of the make-up from Chris’ clavicle. 

It feels like Zach is somehow branding him with his cool fingers. Like at any minute he might reach into Chris’ chest and rip out his heart because a Marked freak like him doesn’t deserve to live, let alone be his friend.

Once the design is clear on Chris’ skin, though, Zach’s frantic wiping grows gentle. Reverent even.

Chris hazards a look at Zach’s face once his demeanor changes and he notices that Zach’s eyes have gone wide and glassy with tears.

"Zach?" Chris asks, tentative.

Zach looks up at him, knocking a few tears loose.

"What -" 

Zach cuts Chris’ question off with his own question.

"Why were you hiding this?"

Chris stares at him for a second, like Zach’s lost his fucking mind.

"It’s the Mark of Shame," Chris echoes his grandmother helplessly.

Zach vehemently shakes his head.

"No, it’s not."

Chris grows defensive. It’s almost ironic, as an actor, how much he hates being on display. He rips his arm out of Zach’s now lax grip.

"Yes it is!" Chris surprises himself a little at the volume and venom in his reply.

Zach holds out his hands.

"Christopher-"

"What’s it matter to you, anyway?" Chris snaps again. "What do you even know about the Marks?"

"I know that they’re ancient signs of the Soul Bond," Zach says. "I know that not everyone has them anymore, few do, in fact. But everyone did once. I know they’re a sign of beauty, a sign of togetherness in a world that now prides itself on individuality."

Chris shakes his head. He’s feels tears slide down his own cheeks, some emotional response to Zach’s words, one he can’t really explain, and it only adds to his Shame.

"No," he gasps. "My grandma called them a Mark of Shame. My mom hid mine from the world. Everyone hides them from the world."

"Not everyone," Zach says, "Not on purpose, anyway. Not to the lengths that you have."

Chris looks at Zach, completely bewildered.

"What?"

"The Soul Bond Marks used to be celebrated," Zach explained, "They were something left over from the dawn of human life. A symbol, made pagan by western religion, and systematically wiped out. Or mostly wiped out. Only a few carry the Mark now. Some don’t even have matches anymore."

"How do you even know all of this?" Chris asks.

Zach clenches his jaw and swallows before answering, voice careful, “My dad told me when I was little.”

"Why?" Chris asks, more gently than his previous question.

"Because he and my mom had them," Zach says. "And because I have one."

Chris blinks in disbelief.

"What?"

Zach nods.

"I have a Mark too, Chris," he explains, and pulls his shirt over his head, spinning around to reveal the dark, unconcealed Mark on his shoulder blade.

Chris stares at it, dumbfounded. He maps the shape of the lines and dots with his eyes. It only takes him a second to realize it looks just like the mirror image of the mark on his own body.

He reaches out to touch it, caressing Zach’s skin slowly before suddenly bending over and putting his head between his knees in an attempt to catch his breath.

Zach’s hands are on him in an instant, balancing him as he begins to sway.

"Breathe, Chris," Zach instructs, and Chris listens.

His entire arm, from the pads of his fingers on up though his rib cage, is radiating some kind of tingling sensation. A sensation caused by Zach’s Mark.

"What the fuck…" Chris gasps, voice full of something akin to fear and wonder.

Zach helps him to stand again, holds him up in his arms.

"What the fuck?" Chris repeats, more urgently.

Zach brushes the pads of his fingers across Chris’ cheek and jaw.

"They’re a fucking match," Chris says. He feels so completely helpless. His world completely turned upside down.

Zach nods, choking on a half-sob, half-laugh.

"Yeah," he agrees, "They are."

He plasters his palm to Chris’ clavicle then, covering Chris’ mark completely with his own skin, and something inside Chris, deep down in his soul, lets out a sigh. Warmth radiates through him then and all of the fear and confusion fogging up his brain just dissipates.

"We’re a match," Chris breathes the words out, like a divine revelation.

Zach presses their foreheads together and nods.

"We’re a fucking match," he agrees, smiling wider than Chris has ever seen him smile before.

Chris feels himself mirror Zach’s glee, reaching a hand helplessly around so he can press his fingers to the Mark on Zach’s back. The mark that’s all but calling out for him to touch it.

When his fingers make contact, they both gasp. They’re souls slot together, somehow, like a newly completed circuit. Zach nuzzles his nose into Chris’ cheek and Chris, all lingering shame gone from his heart, turns his face so he can press their mouths together for the first time.

 


End file.
